


Coming About

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1800s Sea Explorers, AU, Dean's on a boat, Historical, I don't even know?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been at sea a long time, and he knows a born sailor when he sees one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming About

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinJennster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JENN!
> 
> (ps thanks to Lily/drownedinblissfulconfusion/tundraeternal for the title and beta and GENERAL CHEERLEADING!)

Dean's been at sea a long time, and he's ready for this leave.

It's been six years of exploring the islands far to the south and to the west. Six years without Sam or Bobby or Ellen or any of the folks he knew on land, with only the ship's crew of forty for company.

He doesn't regret it: his enlistment bonus meant John's debts were paid and so were Sam's school fees, and he's learned more from Benny and Charlie and even Garth on this trip then he ever thought he would, and he's come to love the sea.

Still, he's glad to be on solid land, American land, instead of the stormy Caribbean seas or the lush humid jungle of the islands. The crowd of unfamiliar faces is jarring, though, after months of only those of his shipmates.

He pulls his coat more tightly around him, feeling the Boston fog sinking into him and chilling him to the bone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots an alleyway leading towards a warmly lit door with a sign hanging above it that proclaims it the Heaven's Rest Tavern just as a raindrop hits him on the cheek. Another follows and that makes his decision for him. It's time for a drink that hasn't spent six years in a barrel soaking up salty, filthy water from a ship's deck.

The rain's falling hard enough to soak through his jacket once he reaches the doorway and he ducks inside gratefully. It's brightly lit inside, the wooden walls scrubbed clean and the stone floor nearly sparkling. There's a small crowd gathered, clothes steaming in the warm air, and the glow of the candles reflects off the pints being passed around by the bartender.

Dean slides onto a stool at the end, shaking the water from his hands and hair. He leans against the wall beside his stool and closes his eyes for a moment, taking in the sound of the rain against the roof and the laughter of the bar's patrons gratefully. He's got his pay in his pocket and nowhere to be until the train to Worcester in the afternoon tomorrow, so tonight is for him to enjoy himself. In a minute, anyway. He's just going to rest his eyes for a moment first.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The gravelly voice startles him from his thoughts and he yelps, forgetting he's on a stool in a bar, and nearly tips onto the floor.

Warm hands grab his shoulders, steadying him, and he looks up into clear blue eyes framed by messy dark hair and a forehead creased with worry. "Are you all right?"

Dean blinks. It's the bartender, he realizes. He's standing beside Dean, hands still digging into his shoulders, and Dean can't seem to pull his eyes from the other man's cool gaze. "Hi." He says, feeling stupid. "Thanks."

The bartender blinks and breaks their locked stares, glancing down at his hands and releasing Dean almost reluctantly. "I'm sorry if I startled you," he says, setting his tray on the bar beside Dean. "It's been busy today and I didn't realize you didn't have a drink."

Dean looks around. The sound of rain on the roof has stopped and the bar is almost empty save a few old men in the corner, dicing. "Uh, yeah. I'll take a pint, I guess."

The bartender nods. "It's on the house." He turns to maneuver back behind the bar and Dean can't help but watch him go.

The man is tall, though not as tall as Dean, and muscular in a lean way that Dean can't help but admire. He looks like he doesn't quite belong here, tucked behind the counter of a quiet city bar; rather, he should be high up in the rigging of a ship, dropping sails and watching the horizon. His clothes are a little big, a little rumpled, and there's a towel tucked haphazardly into his belt.

For some reason, Dean doesn't want him to leave. He's the first person Dean's had any semblance of conversation with besides his shipmates for six years, after all, and suddenly Dean can't bear to have the conversation end.

"I'm Dean," he blurts out. It's louder than he expects and he flushes when the old men pause their game to look at him oddly.

The bartender turns to look at him again, hand pausing mid-pour, then resuming. "Castiel," he says warily. He gives a wave to the two men bundling back up by the door, and after a whoosh of cool air from outside, they're alone. "You're from the ship that came in today, aren't you?"

Dean nods. "Yeah, first shore leave in civilization in about six years. Been exploring the islands across the ocean."

Castiel's eyes brighten and he moves closer, leaning against the bar a few inches from Dean's elbow. "I have heard about the animals there, that they're very different from ours. Is that true? Is there really a giant turtle in the islands? And there are flightless swimming birds?" His eyes are wide and animated, and he's leaning in close.

Dean can't help but laugh a little and lean in. "Yeah, the turtles there are so big a kid could ride 'em. And the penguins--the swimming birds--they just walk around the island and swim so fast you'd think they could fly."

"And you were at sea for six years, you said?" Castiel's voice is wistful.

"Yeah." Dean watches him closely. "You ever been to sea?"

Castiel shakes his head. "I was going to go, once. But I had to stay here. The bar needed someone to run it when my father disappeared, and none of my brothers could."

Dean shakes his head. "I'm sorry, man. It's awesome out there."

"So I've heard." Castiel turns and pulls out a rag, scrubbing at the already very clean bar. "However, it isn't for me."

Dean shakes his head. "So you've never been to sea?"

Castiel sighs. "I've never even been on a boat, Dean."

Dean glances around the empty bar and comes to a decision. He grabs Castiel by the arm and pulls him towards the door. "Come on."

The bartender resists, planting his feet. "What are you doing, Dean?"

"There's no customers here and it's just about closing time, right, Cas?"

"I-- what--"

"I'm taking you to my ship. Gonna show you a little of the sea life."

"What?!"

Dean stops pulling and turns to Castiel. "You wanted to see what the ocean's like, right, Cas? Now's your chance."

Castiel's face is still for a few seconds as he processes, then he nods shakily. "All right."

Dean grins and pulls the towel from Castiel's waistband, tossing it on the bar. He's still holding tight to the other man's wrist and he tows Castiel with him towards the door.

Once they're outside and the door's been locked behind them, candles extinguished, they step from the alcove of the stoop into the rain. Dean's grinning and Cas has a small, wondering smile on his face that spreads wider and Dean pulls him forward, picking up their pace to a jog.

As they round the corner to the pier, they're both soaked and thunder is crashing around them. Dean slips through the gate, still pulling Cas, trying not to shiver when his hand slips and catches on the other man's hand instead of safely on his wrist where he'd grasped before.

When they reach the Purgatory, they're panting and laughing. A flash of lightning illuminates Cas's face as Dean yanks down a rope ladder from the side of the ship and pushes Cas forward, releasing his hand only reluctantly.

Castiel hesitates for a moment, glancing up at the darkened ship, then back at Dean, then grips the first rung and begins to climb.

Dean was right about one thing, he thinks as he watches Cas climb. The bartender was meant for this. The tight trousers highlight his firm rear and he's graceful and quick as he makes his way over the rail. Dean follows a few rungs behind, ready to catch him if he slips, but Cas's hands and feet are steady and sure. Too quickly they're standing on the ship again and Dean mourns the loss of the view.

But he quickly forgets that at the sight of Castiel's face as he gazes around him at the slick deck and tightly wound sails. He's almost glowing in the flashes of lightning, his hair plastered to his face and his thin, soaked shirt outlining sleek muscles in his chest and back.

Dean steps closer, into Castiel's space. "What do you think? Want to climb up and see if we can see the open ocean from the rigging?"

Cas turns to him wordlessly, nodding, and Dean leads them forward to the mast and its dangling ropes. He boosts Cas up to the first platform and follows, taking a rope and wrapping it around Cas in a harness, just in case.

"Follow me, but be careful, okay?" Dean starts slow, working his way up the easiest path. Cas is right behind him, keeping pace. Halfway up, Dean hears a gasp and swings to a nearby platform, searching for Cas. He sees him a few feet below, frozen in place, staring out at the pier and the city laid out below him. Dean grins again, brushing the water from his face to see the view more clearly.

"You having fun?"

"Dean, it's-" Cas shakes his head, clambering up to the platform beside him. He turns to stare at Dean. "Thank you." He shakes his head. "I never thought-- it's incredible, Dean. How do you ever leave it?"

Dean smiles. "It ain't easy, that's for sure." He puts a hand on Cas's shoulder, turning them both with a gentle tug. "But look out here."

Cas's jaw drops. Laid out before them is the Boston harbor, waves rolling against piers and boats of all sizes, and beyond that, the sea. They're high enough up that they can see clear to the horizon, between the islands, and to the flat sea of the cape and beyond. The storm's abated enough that the moonlight shines through intermittently and the water glitters with it.

Dean glances back at the other man, and Cas looks at him at the same moment. They lean closer together slowly, as if drawn by some force, and Dean finds his hands on Cas's waist and feels Cas's resting on his cheeks and then they're kissing, pressed together in the rain and fog and moonlight, high above the Boston shoreline.

Cas kisses as if he's starving for it, frantic and deep. Dean returns it with a force that surprises even himself, pressing Cas against the mast and burying his fingers in Cas's shirt, burrowing beneath the fabric to find the warm skin below. He reaches back and fumbles for the gate of the platform, slamming it shut, before unwinding the ropes from Cas's waist and tossing them aside.

The platform's small, smaller still with the gate closing off the railings on all sides, but with legs tangled and pressed against the mast he lays Cas down across the slats carefully, not breaking the kiss for more than a second.

Cas's hands are buried in his hair, his legs threaded through Dean's, and in the next flash of lightning, Dean pulls back, panting, and rests his forehead against Cas's.

Cas is breathing hard, eyes closed. He's beautiful, tanned skin flushed and damp, hair in even more disarray than before. Dean watches him for a moment, until Cas's eyes flutter open and he frowns a little.

"Why'd you stop?"

Dean laughs. "Just enjoying the view."

Cas looks through the bars at the wide ocean below them and smiles. "Thank you, Dean. For everything tonight."

Dean grins, letting his hands slide below Cas until they're cupped around his ass through his soaking trousers. "Don't thank me yet, Cas. Still got a lot more tonight coming up. If you want there to be, that is."

Cas wraps his hands around Dean's head and pulls him into another kiss instead of answering. Dean returns it enthusiastically, not even minding the scrape of wet canvas trousers against his skin.

It's Cas's hands that reach between them, fumbling at ties and belted rope and suspenders. He swears under his breath as Dean's buttons catch and pulls hard, the final button tearing loose and bouncing away off the platform. Dean returns his enthusiasm, tugging Cas's shirttails from his waistband and pushing his suspenders from his shoulders. Both shirts are cast aside, though Cas has the foresight to tuck them against the mast instead of tossing them the other way to fall into the sea.

Cas moans as Dean's hands dig into his bared hipbones, running greedily over his stomach and ribs. He reaches up, worms eager fingers under Dean's loosened belt and Dean bucks against him when Cas's fingers brush hard flesh.

Dean slides his hands back, dragging Cas’s trousers down to his thighs as Cas yanks open Dean’s pants, both groaning as their cocks press together without the rough canvas and cotton separating them. Dean rolls towards the railing, pulling Cas onto his side and spooning them together. He wraps one hand around Cas’s bared cock and with the other grips him tight hard enough to bruise, pressing Cas against him and thrusting against his buttocks. The soaked deck beneath them is almost a relief compared to the heat between them as he thrusts and buries his face in Cas’s warm neck. He can feel Cas’s pulse thundering against him as they rock together in time with the motion of the waves.

He can feel the heat building despite the chill lingering in the air, and stretches to kiss Cas’s cheek and try to reach his lips. Cas is panting hard, eyes closed, head leaning back against Dean’s, and he turns his face to the other man and presses their lips together. It’s not quite a kiss, more just breathing together, as both crest and come against the wooden boards and each other.

They lay panting for a moment as the rain begins again, feeling it wash away the sweat and the mess and cool their skin. After a moment, Dean twists onto his back and pulls Cas close, closing his eyes tightly. Cas follows and lays his head on Dean’s shoulder, arms around his chest.

They both drift off just as the sky lightens in the East to a deep violet-pink over the horizon and the waves.

It’s hours later that a seagull squawks nearby and wakes Dean, who’s been lulled by the waves into the kind of deep sleep he only has at sea. He glances down and smiles at the tangle of dark hair against his own freckled chest.

There’s a place open on their ship, when the leave ends. Dean hopes that maybe Cas can be convinced to take it.

As if the thought was somehow passed to him, Cas stirs and pulls away, sitting up and glancing around, eyes landing on Dean. The frown and the confusion on his face melt away, and he smiles.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey Cas.” Dean pokes at the pile of clothes still miraculously on the platform. They’re almost dry, though crumpled, and he pulls his shirt over his head while handing Cas the other. He smiles as Cas pulls it over his head and his hair becomes ever more of a tangle, and reaches over to smooth some of the wayward strands. “What did you think of your first night at sea?”

Cas’s smile grows. “It was even better than I expected.”

“You know–” Dean glances out at the horizon, now busy with boats and fishermen and wakes and waves, “–we need another crewman on board.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas still, freezing in place.

“You can cook, probably, and you’ve proved you don’t get seasick. How about it?”

Cas is shaking his head before Dean even finishes the question, but then he stops, staring back at the city. He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always been the good son.” His voice is quiet. “Always done what’s expected, followed orders.” He leans back against the mast, resting his elbows on his knees and tilting his head back against the wood. “My brothers have spread across the globe, doing whatever pleases them, and I’ve stayed behind.” He opens his eyes, looks directly at Dean. “Maybe now it’s my turn to live my life, Dean.”

Dean can feel an idiotic smile spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

Cas smiles back. “Yes.”

They don’t make it down for a few more hours.

 


End file.
